


I'll Keep You Safe

by BlueberryYogurt



Category: Don't Starve (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Blood and Injury, M/M, Maxwell gets beat up, Temporary Character Death, The Forge, Violence, come on you guys, its a forge fic of course it gonna have those, kinda a little bit, not to be confused with fruit loops, other characters are mentioned but not in it enough be tagged, romance on the battlefield, their in their gladiator skins for this fic, time loops
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-02
Updated: 2020-08-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:21:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25666603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueberryYogurt/pseuds/BlueberryYogurt
Summary: Maxwell is stuck in an endless loop of fighting but this round feels different.
Relationships: Maxwell/Wilson (Don't Starve)
Kudos: 28





	I'll Keep You Safe

**Author's Note:**

> ugh that title is bad  
> ah geez here i go posting garbage again fyuawighojofwa  
> i wrote this a year ago but never really finished it enough to be satisfied with posting it, but a recent wave in love for dst made me say fuck it and clean this mess up  
> I couldn't figure out how to end it and I'm still oh just so bad at writing character interactions so like oops sorry this ain't that good chief  
> but I hope you can somehow enjoy it regardless! i think this was lowkey based on the way I play Maxwell in the forge but I could be wrong fywguaih alright I'll shut the hell up now hope you like Maxwell angst!

_“I’ll keep you safe.”_

_“I know you will.”_

The words rang out in Maxwell’s head as he examined the scene before him, the fallen party members, and the monster that was making its way towards Wilson. He was already grabbing the armor before he realized it, the future consequences of his actions an afterthought. Everything had happened so fast.

The first round had gone smoothly, and even the rounds over that. A fight they-- he had grown accustomed to. A scene he’d watched countless times, an event he’d become a participant in time and time again. Every match started with those words and every match made the scientist into a liar, a constant loop of failure and death among the heat of the lava and the shouts of the pigs. They didn’t even know that this was the 50th fight, an endless cycle that he alone was left aware of. No matter what he tried to change it was always the same ending.

The fallen king standing alone in the arena, surrounded by the blood of his fallen allies with a beast staring him down.

This time, however, was different. The beginning to the end felt different somehow. Wickerbottom had fallen earlier than usual, a slip up he hadn’t seen coming. She fell, and with her Woodie as well. As if the beast knew just how serious their situation was becoming it called in its minions and it was by some miracle that Maxwell made it through that mess without perishing as well. In his place though had fallen WX-78, and that led to where he was now.

Wolfgang collapsed among the carnage of the fight, stricken down by the Boarior as Maxwell took out the last of the pit pigs. It was heading towards Wilson now, the scientist crouched over Wickerbottom’s body in a desperate attempt to get her back while there seemed to be a moment to breathe. Maxwell didn’t realize he’d called the man’s name as he grabbed the splint-mail from the ground, staff already raised overhead as the summoned meteor crashed down upon the beast. It roared, setting its sights now on the mage.

“Maxwell!” Wilson shouted from where he was now standing, already pulling the blow dart up to try and drag the attention back onto himself

“Focus on the others!” Maxwell called back, dodging a swing from the Boarior’s club.

“But you--”

“I’ll be fine!” As if on cue the monster slammed its weapon into the ground, the ripple and following shockwave knocking Maxwell down. He got back up and kept running. “Hurry!”

It wasn’t like him, really, to act as a decoy. In the past attempts at this fight, Maxwell had always opted out of playing chase-me with the monsters that were hellbent on killing them, setting his sights instead on getting the other survivors back into the fray. It was in Maxwell’s nature to stay away from danger, to have the others do the fighting for him as he fired off magic from a safer distance. He was terrified of being injured, even after all the deaths he’d experienced it never once became easier. It always hurt, it always brought with it horrifying thoughts of if this would truly be the end for him, for them.

Yet as his lungs burned from the running, blood seeping into his robes and a broken arm hanging at his side, those thoughts couldn’t possibly be further away from his mind.

All he could really think about was Wilson and those words he’d said to him. Those pre-fight words shared between the two before the group would split off to take care of the first wave of pigs. Fifty times now Wilson had promised to keep him safe, and fifty times he had done his damnedest to follow through with that promise. Fate seemed hellbent on making Wilson into a liar, so maybe it was Maxwell’s turn to give it a shot.

The mage chanced a glance away from the path in front of him, checking to see how far along his team was in recovery. It was in that small moment that hope seemed to blossom in his tired heart, his movements slowing as he saw Wickerbottom summon the life blossoms, watched Wilson bring their final member back onto their feet. They were all alive again. They hadn’t lost just yet.  
  
Maxwell didn’t even register that the Boarior was on him until it was too late, the light knocked from him as the monster’s club collided with his side and sent him across the arena. His body skidded and rolled across the ground, leaving behind a gory mess before coming to a halt. The former king’s body lay still, blood pooling from his mouth as he succumbed to his injuries. He honestly couldn’t care less though. He’d put his selfish need for self-preservation aside in order to help the others because he knew that if it came to this, if it came to his corpse being thrown across Pugna’s stage, he knew they would bring him back.

They wouldn’t let him down.

“Good as new.”

And they certainly didn’t.

It mustn’t have taken them long to reach him, the blood still drying at his lips as he carefully pushed himself back up. His head was pounding and his body ached, informing him that he had been revived without the magical flowers there to help soothe the pain. The mage opens his eyes, and even with his slightly blurred vision he could make out just who it was that had helped him. His hair was a dead giveaway.

“Excellent work, Higgsbu--”

Maxwell isn’t allowed the time to finish his sentence as he finds himself tugged into Wilson’s arms, the scientist holding onto him rather tightly for a moment that felt far longer than it truly was. The warmth of Wilson’s body lingered even as he pushed Maxwell away, holding the magician by the shoulders and giving him a concerned look.

“Why on Earth would you--”

“You know as well as I do that this is not Earth, Higgsbury.” A smile cracks onto his face at the annoyance that flashed through Wilson’s eyes at the comment.

“You know what I mean, Maxwell! Why did you do that?” There is an odd weight to the way he asks, making the magician hesitate before he can voice an answer.

“Simple. I know you have a knack for raising your fallen friends from the grave.” He ignores the confusion written on the scientist’s face at that, the unspoken question written in his eyes, and presses on with a quieter tone to his words ”Not only that, but…” Maxwell pauses, his eyes glued to Wilson’s. Should he bother telling his companion again? Try to explain to him that this wasn’t the first time they’d all been in this fight, that this wasn’t the first time he’d told him this information, that it was very likely this wouldn’t be the last time he did either? Or try to describe to him how he, the former King of The Constant, could not stand the thought of living through another iteration of this day only to watch everyone he’d grown close to die yet again? Try to tell him that he couldn’t bear to watch Wilson die again because of him?

Because it had always been because of him. Every. Single. Time. Without fail, every death Wilson had suffered came about because of Maxwell. Not because someone else had messed up, not because of an enemy specifically targeting the shorter man.

It was always because of him.

Not this time.

“I think it was the right thing to do, Wilson.”

With a satisfied grin on his face Maxwell pushes himself back to his feet, dusting off his robes before offering a hand for Wilson to take. It didn’t come as a surprise when his companion actually took it, joining Maxwell on his feet as the older man searched the area for his discarded staff. What was a surprise however was when Wilson continued to hold onto his hand, drawing Maxwell’s attention back to the scientist. Maxwell knew not to get his hopes up, that this might not be the last fight and everything would be wiped from Wilson’s memory, but that didn’t stop him from lifting the scientist’s hand up to his lips and placing a soft kiss to the back of it.

“This time, I’ll be the one keeping you safe.”


End file.
